


The Later Years

by Queen_OfThe_Universe



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Angst, Established Romance, M/M, Memory Loss, Sad, Sweet, a hint at suicide, major character deaths, what if...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23270293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_OfThe_Universe/pseuds/Queen_OfThe_Universe
Summary: An Alternate Universe story. John and Harold have both survived Samaritan and, against Harold's prophecy that they would "wind up actually dead one day", they have grown old together. Harold's memory is now slipping, like his father's before him, and John is struggling to hold on as best he can while Aurora works hard to take care of them both.Sad and sweet with some angst, an established romance, and major character deaths. This is not an easy read. You'll need to have a full box of Kleenex ready for this one. Sorry, not sorry.
Relationships: Harold Finch/John Reese
Comments: 34
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> FYI, there are minor spoilers for _Judgment_ (S01E05), _Foe_ (S01E08), _RAM_ (S03E16), and _B.S.O.D._ (S05E02). 
> 
> It's important to know that memory issues affect everyone differently. Harold's memories come and go, and this is a wibbly wobbly decent rather than a direct one, mostly because I wanted to be kind to both men as much as one can be with serious issues like this. 
> 
> There are a lot of tears in this, which are normally OOC for both men, but I think after so many years together, the tears are warranted in this case.
> 
> This was originally written for National Novel Writing Month 2019 as part of a POI Alternate Universe collection.

_"I'm working on something that will help you."_ \- Harold  
 _"You're still working on that memory thing."_ \- Harold's father  
 _"Not just memory, it's more of a... friend. Maybe one day this guy will watch over you, learn from you, protect you."_ \- Harold  
 _"Well, if anyone can do it, it's you. The world spins on dreamers like you, Harold."_ \- Harold's father

  
- _Altheia_ (S03E12)

* * *

Year: 2027

Harold had always felt his most comfortable in the library and John had to admit he'd missed the book lined hallways while they'd been tucked away inside the abandoned subway station. Once he'd gotten back on his feet after his dramatic rescue from the rooftop, John had looked forward to getting back out there to save the numbers.

These days, however, he let Shaw do most of the heavy lifting whenever possible while he kept an eye on Harold. 

Since returning to the library, they had outfitted the original staff break room with a full kitchen where John brought library cook books and learned to make elaborate dishes he could fill the freezer with. The food was for everyone, but most importantly, it was for Harold, who'd become notorious for not remembering to eat. 

Beside the kitchen, John and Shaw had also transformed one of the multi stall bathrooms into a single bathroom with a large shower stall in it. Several nooks and crannies had been converted into sleeping areas. While everyone had a home to go to, it was helpful during stressful cases to be able to crash locally, at any point in time, or for John to convince Harold he needed to take a break from research or coding and lay down for a nap. 

John was doing his best to ensure Harold didn't pull all nighters any more in order to keep him on an even keel, and often did nothing more than sit beside Harold in an arm chair with a good book. 

When Harold stopped typing to stare into the middle distance for an extended period of time, John would ask what he was doing.

"I... don't remember."

"You were hacking into the Anderson's email," John prompted.

"Oh right. Thank you." Harold began typing again, his wedding ring glinting in the shaft of sunlight coming through the tall window behind them.

John reached over to run his fingers through Harold's hair, still amazed that he shared his last name and wore his wedding ring ten years later. When Harold glanced over at him John asked, "Do you need to take a break? You've been at the computer for a long time."

"No, I'm fine." Harold turned enough to kiss John's palm. "But thank you."

Harold's forgetfulness had been bothering John for a long time. Enough for him to realize that they'd stayed in this job longer than either of them had ever anticipated and maybe... maybe it was time to think about finding replacements and retiring.

The idea jarred him. Retire? What would they do all day if they didn't have the numbers to keep them busy? Who would they get to replace them? Someone would have to take over for Harold, right? He doubted that would be easy. 

* * *

Her name was Serenity and she proved to be just about as good with computers as Harold. He was impressed with her work, telling John over and over again throughout the day how amazed he was with how difficult she was to track down and how she managed to evade him at every step. 

John was impressed with her motivations and while Harold assumed she had only intended to rescue her elderly neighbor from a major scam artist, John wasn't so sure. He'd seen the light in her eyes, had heard the fire in her voice when she'd talked about helping those who couldn't help themselves. She knew her neighbor was only one of thousands of people who could use her help, she just lacked direction. She was just like them.

When the case was over and both Serenity and her elderly neighbor had been returned home safe and sound, John found Harold on the 3rd floor of the library where they'd moved bookcases around to make the sleeping areas. He was standing at a window, staring out at the city and John moved to stand beside him.

"I think she's the one," John said. 

"She's the one, what?" Harold asked, continuing to stare out at the city skyline.

"She's good, Harold. You know that and I know that."

"Good? For what? Who are you talking about?"

But he couldn't say it. Not out loud. "She gets along with Shaw really well." 

Harold finally turned to face John. "Would you please tell me what you're talking about?"

"I just... I've been thinking about this for awhile now. You and I, we're not getting any younger. We certainly didn't plan for this. You always said we'd wind up dead someday. But we're not." This was not the conversation John had ever thought he'd need to have with Harold. It was not as easy as he'd thought it might be. 

"John, I love you, but would you just spit it out already? What on earth are you trying to say?"

"I think we should bring Serenity on board. Tell her about The Machine."

"You want to do what?"

"I... I think it's time you and I retire."

"Retire..."

John tried to make himself sound more assured than he felt, though it was hard to keep the slight wobble from his voice. "We don't have to move or anything, but I think it's best. Yes." 

"Retire..."

John took a deep breath. "Harold, you've been having a lot of memory issues lately and it only seems to be getting worse. You forget to eat unless I put food in front of you. You forget what you're doing while you're doing it."

"I know, John. You don't have to remind me." Rarely one to get angry, Harold stopped and sighed. "I'm doing the best I can." He reached out and took hold of John's hand.

"I know you are, and I appreciate that, but I think it's time we let someone else take over."

"My father had Alzheimers," Harold said. John gave Harold's hand a squeeze. "By the time I left him, he didn't know who I was. I don't want..." Harold took a trembling breath.

"John, I'm terrified that will happen to me if I slow down or quit. I don't want to forget you or the work that we've been doing."

John wanted nothing more than to promise Harold that wouldn't happen, that he wouldn't let Harold forget anything. But the truth of the matter was, he had no control over what would happen. Neither of them did.

He pulled Harold into his arms for a tight hug. "I've got you, Harold. I'm here for you, no matter what happens."

Harold hugged him back, fine tremors flitting through his body. "Thank you."

They stood like that for awhile and John didn't bother keeping track of the time. It felt good just to have Harold in his arms, somehow affirming. 

"What would we do?" Harold asked, seemingly out of the blue.

"What do you mean what would we do? What would we do when?"

"If we retire. What would we do with ourselves?"

John thought about it a moment before he said, "We could always build a train set in the basement."

"I'm being serious."

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"Are we talking about dinner?" Shaw's voice was loud in the quiet of the library as she came up to the third floor. "Cause I'm starving."

Harold looked sheepish and kept his mouth shut. 

"We weren't talking about dinner, no," John said. "We were talking about retirement."

"Retire-what now? Who? You?"

"Both of us. Yes."

Her eyes grew wide as saucers. "Oh my God, I never thought I'd see the day... wow."

Harold turned back toward the window, away from Shaw. "It's not-well, I'm not..."

"We're not ready just yet," John clarified. "Just discussing the possibilities."

Shaw nodded. "Gosh. What would you do with yourselves, if you didn't have the numbers to keep you busy?"

"That's what we were trying to figure out."

Shaw snorted. "I'm sorry, but I just can't see you in retirement, John."

"I know. I can't exactly see me in retirement either. But-" he nodded in Harold's direction. "I think it's time."

She considered it for a moment, with a tilt of her head as she studied Harold. "Yeah, you're right. It is time."

From where he stood, not facing either of them, Harold leaned into John. 

Shaw reached out and placed a hand on Harold's other shoulder. "There's time. We can set up a meeting to figure out how everything will work out. But we don't need to do it tonight."

"What about Aurora?" Harold asked, still facing the window. 

"Don't worry, we'll talk to her first, before we make any plans," John said. 


	2. Chapter 2

The Machine had eventually chosen a name, Aurora, their guiding light. She'd claimed she liked the sound of Aurora better than Northern Lights, and it fit her. She was not an open system, as Harold had decreed, but for Harold, John, and Shaw, she could be, under the right circumstances. She liked talking to them as a real human being would, and at times found it necessary. 

This was one of those times. Harold and John sat together on their couch at home in the livingroom with a phone line open. Harold was the one having trouble articulating retirement, so it fell to John, to once again explain his thoughts. 

It was somewhat ironic. He had always been sure that if either one of them were to ever talk about retiring, it would have been Harold, and not himself. But in this case, he was doing it for Harold, because what other choice did he have? And who would look after Harold if John was off saving numbers while he stayed home alone? Either they both retired or neither of them retired.

"John's right, Harold," Aurora said once he'd finished. "It is time. This was only one of many possibilities I saw for you and I'm mostly happy things ended up this way. Serenity is a good person and she would make a good Admin."

Harold stared at the floor and John reached over to take his hand and give it a squeeze.

"In no way would she ever replace you, father," Aurora said. "No one could ever do that. But while I am a sentient computer destined to live a very long life, you are not, and we must accept the inevitability that your lives will both be much shorter than mine."

John closed his eyes to her words, wanting them to go away. He didn't want to think about Harold's death. For without Harold, he had nothing.

"I want you both to enjoy the time that is given to you. You may enjoy the rest of your years with my blessing."

"Thank you." John wasn't sure who had spoken the cracked words. 

After Aurora had left them, they sat together on the couch for a long time not saying anything. 

* * *

"Shaw, I need you to take some things off my hands," John said on their way back to the library after finishing up their latest case. 

"Oh? Like what?"

John made a right turn and headed for the brownstone he and Harold called home together. 

"Where are we going?"

"We don't have to do this now, but if we do, I want to do it when Harold isn't home."

"Come on, John, what is it?"

"I'm not comfortable with this," he continued. "The idea of giving up all that firepower has me in a near panic."

"You're guns?! John, you're giving me your guns?!"

"I don't have much of a choice, with Harold as forgetful as he is."

"What have you got?"

"I'll show you."

When they arrived, John lead her inside their tastefully decorated home and down into the basement where he kept his work station. Gun oil, brushes, and cleaning cloths were neatly laid out on the old grey metal desk, and beside them was a large locked gun cabinet. 

Shaw rubbed her hands together eagerly, as John unlocked it. She gasped when she saw what was hidden inside. "Oh my God, John, I think I love you! How much of this don't you want?"

"I have a Sig Sauer upstairs. I'm giving all of this to you."

"The whole thing?"

John swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, and said, "If you want the cabinet too, it's yours." 

It wasn't that he was emotionally attached to his weapons cache. Far from it. The hard part was letting go of something he wasn't sure he wouldn't need. Minus his time on the streets when he was homeless, John had never not had an arsenal at his beck and call, though it hadn't always been this plentiful of larger weapons. 

He was keeping one gun locked in his bedside table. He couldn't not have a single gun in the house, but with Harold getting so absentminded and forgetful, he was nervous to have so many, even in a locked cabinet. 

"Don't worry, I'll put all of this to good use."

"I knew you would."

* * *

  
  
Year: 2028

John had just placed the sliced deli ham into his shopping cart when his phone rang. He answered it through the earwig he still wore, even though he hadn't been on the job for several months now. 

"Falcon," he answered. 

"John, it's Aurora." 

He was on immediate alert. She never just called him out of the blue like this, especially not since they'd retired. 

"What's wrong?"

"It's Harold. He wandered away from home this afternoon shortly after you left. I think he was headed toward the library, but he got lost along the way."

Shit. John turned away from his shopping cart, prepared to leave it and run for Harold.

"No need for you to worry. I sent Ms. Shaw to find him and take him home. She's sitting with him now. But I didn't want you to freak out when you saw her there."

"Thank you, Aurora. I appreciate it. I'll be home as soon as possible."

All throughout the long checkout line, John couldn't help but think about his need to get home. He kept drumming his fingers on the handle of the cart in frustration that the line wasn't moving any faster. He needed to make sure Harold was okay with his own eyes.

At home in the livingroom he found Harold sitting on the couch, confusion etched into his face.

"What is everyone so worried about?" Harold asked when John knelt in front of him to ask if he was okay. 

"You got lost, sweetheart," John said, cupping Harold's face with his palm. "Aurora said you'd wandered away from home and got lost."

"I'm fine. I was on my way to the library."

"But Shaw said you were going the wrong way."

"No. I would have gotten there. I know the way."

"Of course." 

John got up and went back to the kitchen where Shaw was waiting for him. On autopilot, he began to put the groceries away. 

"He's going down hill fast, isn't he?" Shaw asked. 

John nodded, putting a bag of peas into the freezer. "Yes. Faster than I thought possible."

"Do you have any plans?"

"Ride it out. It's the only thing I know to do right now. Because of who he is, I can't send him to a facility. I have to be the one to look after him."

"You need anything, you call me, you hear?"

John nodded again, a lump in his throat. 

"I might not be able to come myself, but we've brought on a couple of new people. We have a good team. I'll send someone if I can't come myself." 

"Thank you," John whispered. 

* * *

"I'm going to make some tea. Do you want any?" Harold asked, setting his book down and getting up to head to the kitchen.

"No. I'm fine, thanks," John responded. 

He carried on reading Guns and Ammo magazine, only half listening to the sounds of water being poured into the tea pot and a spoon measuring out the tea leaves Harold liked. 

The phone rang just as Harold was coming back into the livingroom with his steaming mug. John answered it. 

"It's Aurora. Tell Harold he forgot to turn off the stove. And he left his laptop on the kitchen table." John did a double take at Harold who was watching him with interest. 

"You left the stove on and your laptop is still in the kitchen," he told Harold. 

Harold's face crumpled and John was on his feet in seconds, taking the hot mug from him and enveloping him in a warm hug. "It's okay, Harold. It's okay. Everything's okay."

"It's not okay. I'm broken. And you can't fix me."

"No," Aurora's voice came through the earwig. "But perhaps we can make things easier for you both."

"Easier?" John asked.

"I have some thoughts. Let me do some more planning and I'll get back to you about them when I have a more concrete plan."


	3. Chapter 3

John pulled the frying pan off the stove and moved to turn the burner off, surprised to see that it was already off. He paused, mentally readjusting to his new reality.   


A voice in the new ear piece he wore said, "It's for the best, John."

"I know. It's just something to get used to." John plated the eggs and brought them to the table where the toast and fruit were already waiting.

"I will explain how everything works later today when you're both ready."

"Thank you."

John was glad, at least, that she would be doing the introductions and not the nameless technicians that had upgraded the house while he and Harold had been holed up at the Coronet Hotel for the last week.

"Do you really think he's going to like all of these modifications?"

"Who's going to like all of what modifications?"

John turned to find Harold in the kitchen doorway, ready for the day in his dress shirt and sweater. He looked like a professor, John mused. But the sweaters were good for Harold. They were more comfortable and kept him warmer than his suit jackets ever had. It was Harold's one concession in his wardrobe when it came to retirement.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Good morning, Harold," came the female voice from the tablet affixed to the kitchen wall. 

Harold turned to it. "Miss Groves?"

"It's Aurora now, father."

Harold's eyes went wide as he spun back to John. "What?"

"Sit down," John said, pulling out Harold's chair for him. "Why don't you eat your eggs before they get cold. I made your favorite."

"John?"

"We'll talk later, I promise."

They had come in late the night before, and Harold hadn't noticed the tablets on the walls, one in each room, including the bathroom. John had to admit he felt a little awkward about having The Machine watching him in the bathroom, but understood it was for Harold's safety, so he put up with whatever she wanted. She was the one who'd made all the decisions on the upgrades. She'd run them by John first, before setting them up at the hotel and bringing in Thornhill technicians with all new appliances and electronics. 

John had neglected to run any of it by Harold ahead of time and Aurora hadn't either. It wasn't necessarily that he'd neglected to tell Harold. He just didn't know how to tell him their plans except to wing it after everything was done and they couldn't take it back. He was sure Harold was going to be upset until he got used to everything. It was going to be a learning curve for both of them for sure.

"Tell me what you're talking about while I eat, please." Harold said. 

John sighed and sat at his place. "The basement wasn't flooded, like I originally told you," John confessed. "We stayed at the hotel so that Aurora could upgrade the house electronically to make things easier for you. She'll explain how everything works after breakfast."

"I was wondering about the tablets on the walls as I came down. I'm not going to like this upgrade, am I?"

"I don't know," John said, truthfully. 

"Well, you certainly didn't tell me it was happening before it happened."

"I apologize, father," Aurora said. "I thought it best to wait to tell you."

Harold grumbled something unintelligable and began to eat his eggs, ignoring them both.

* * *

John had fallen asleep on the couch when he was rudely woken by an alarm going off and Aurora's voice calling his name from the tablet in the wall. 

"John, Harold needs you by the front door," she said, her voice oddly calm despite the alarm going off. 

When he arrived in the entryway, the alarm abruptly shut off and John was left with dead silence as Harold attempted to smash the tablet next to the front door with his fist. 

"Why won't you open the door? Let me out! I have to go out!" Harold was shouting at the tablet.

John approached him from behind. "Harold? Where are you going?"

"I need to get to IFT. Where else would I be going? Why won't this door open?"

He continued to pound on the tablet as John placed his hands on Harold's shoulders and ran them down his arms to his fists and covered them with his own hands. 

"Harold, stop. You're retired. You don't have to go to work."  
"What do you mean I don't have to go to work? I'm in the middle of about ten different projects. Open this door! Right now!" Harold shifted, fighting to get free from John's grasp, but John only held on tighter.

"Harold, we can't go outside right now. Why don't you come into the livingroom and we can play a board game for awhile. Or we could watch a movie. What do you say?"

Harold continued to physically fight him. John slipped his arms firmly around Harold's middle and held on tight, standing firm with his feet planted. He would hold him until he wore himself out and then perhaps put him to bed. Inside, his heart pounded out a stressed rhythm as he struggled to remain calm. 

"Sweetheart, please, calm down," he tried. "We're not trying to trap you here. But it's not safe for you to go out alone. If you want, I can bring the car around and I can drive you there. I just can't let you go by yourself."

"But I own the company. Why can't I go by myself?"

"I just can't let you out of my sight right now, that's all."

Harold turned in John's arms to face him. "But why?"

Harold blurred in front of him. "I just..."

"You're crying? John, why are you crying?"

John rested his forehead on Harold's shoulder and worked to get his emotions under control. "I love you, Harold. I can't tell you more than that. I'm sorry."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Why don't you come back to the couch and we can read a book together."

Harold let himself be lead away from the front door, his confusion over John's emotions softening his reserve. In the livingroom, John grabbed a book off the nearest shelf before depositing Harold on the couch and coaxing him out of his jacket and tie. 

"When was the last time you read Moby Dick?" John asked as Harold got comfortable and lay his head in John's lap. 

"It's been awhile, I think."

John opened to the first page and began to read. Before he was three pages in, Harold was snoring softly in his lap.

John put the book down on the side table, not even bothering with a bookmark and knowing well enough not to dog ear the page. He let out a trembling breath of air and tried again, to keep his emotions in check as he felt the now familiar prickle at his eyes and a wet warmth gathering there.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered, to himself or to The Machine, he wasn't sure which. "Aurora, what do I do?" he amended. 

Through his earwig she said, "I'm working on a coding game for Harold. I should have it finished by tomorrow. That will give him something to do, where he can pretend he's going to work, or working from home, perhaps." 

"Okay," was the only response John could come up with just then. 

"Why don't you take a nap with him. It will likely help you to feel better."

"Will it?"

"It wouldn't hurt to try."

"You're probably right about that."

"I am."

Caressing Harold's hair through his fingers, John eventually fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

"Detective Fusco and Ms. Shaw are at the door," Aurora said through John's earwig when the doorbell rang. 

He set down the butter he'd just pulled from the refrigerator and went to answer it, letting them in moments later. Shaw looked the same as always, brown hair up in a ponytail, eyes sharp on her surroundings, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with boots. Lionel was starting to show his age, his hair had started to grey at the temples and he'd gained a few lines across his forehead where he'd clearly been worrying over one too many cases. He'd shown up in jeans, sneakers, and an NYPD t-shirt.

Shaw had been to visit several times as well as the few when she'd brought Harold back from wandering the city alone. This was the first time, however, that Lionel had ever been to visit. 

"What are you two doing here?" John asked, bringing them into the kitchen. 

"This might sound stupid to you," Fusco said. "But we miss you guys. How are you doing? Where's Harold?"

"He's taking a nap at the moment," John explained, as he pulled the extra large bottle of vanilla extract from the cupboard along with the large squeeze bottle of honey. "Aurora, tell me when he wakes up."

"I will do that," she responded privately.

"Great. What would either of you like to drink. I make a mean Sencha green tea, or we have iced tea, made fresh this morning. Or lemonade. Or I can make coffee."

"You've turned into a regular suburban house couple, haven't you?"

"Don't remind me," John said with a small smile.

"What's with the tablets on all the walls?" Shaw asked, glancing around her, and poking her head into the livingroom. "All the walls, John. Isn't that a bit obsessive?"

"All the walls?" Fusco followed her gaze and his eyes widened. "Why so many?"

The one in the kitchen lit up and Aurora said, "Hey kiddos." She sounded more like Root than she usually did these days.

"Aurora?" Shaw asked. 

"Yeah, it's me."

John pulled several bags of nuts and oats from the pantry as well as a large mixing bowl. 

"I'll butt out of your conversation now and let you guys catch up," Aurora said. "I'll keep an eye on Harold and let you know when he wakes up, John."

"Thank you."

"You are way too calm talking to her like that," Fusco commented.

John brought the bag of pecans over to the table along with the bowl. "You get used to it when she's in your life twenty four seven."

"Twenty four seven?" Fusco asked, incredulously. 

"Who else am I going to talk to at 3am when I can't sleep? It's not like we all lead normal lives and I have a network of friends I can rely on at any given moment. You're both busy handling the numbers and your own lives. All I've got is Harold and Aurora."

"You were part of our bowling league once. You could rejoin us. No one would question it since you're retired now."

"You know you don't have to shoulder this burden alone, or at all, for that matter."

"I married him, Shaw. He and I are stuck together for the rest of our lives, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Also, in case you forgot, Lionel, I hate bowling."

"It was just a suggestion."

"I didn't mean to say you didn't want to be here. In any case, I'd be happy to watch Harold for you for awhile, if you ever need me to."

John slumped back in his seat. "Yeah, that would be good. He knows you."

"Is everything all right?" Fusco asked. 

"We're still here," John replied staring down into his coffee, cupping the warm mug between his palms like a lifeline. 

"But you're not getting out much," Lionel said. 

"No. There's not much to get out for. I run errands and we try to go for a walk around the block once a day, but that's about it, to be honest." 

Getting his act back together, John began to break up the pecans and throw the pieces into the bowl, getting out some of his frustrations as he worked. He didn't want to tell them just how difficult it could be sometimes, but he was grateful to have Aurora there with them to help out. She was like an adoptive daughter in a way, and while she'd taken on Root's voice and attitude most of the time, she had given up Root's nicknames for him. She'd also taken on a little more of Harold's formality, which he suspected she did just for Harold's sake. It was endearing though, to listen to her talk to him in her gentle manner. 

"Aurora watches him when I'm gone. She's created some games for him to keep him occupied and she talks to him too." 

Fusco was shaking his head. "She never talks to me. No one important ever talks to me."

"What, I'm not important?" Shaw asked. "I talk to you all the damn time!"

"No, I didn't mean-what I meant was-"

"Yeah, whatever."

"Whatever is right. I'm retiring at the end of the year anyway."

"You? Retire?" John asked. In his mind, Lionel would be a detective forever. Then again, he'd had to face retirement himself. Aging was such a strange concept to the man who'd expected to die young.

"Yeah, well, my kid's grown. He's expecting his first baby with his wife in a few months. I wanted to be able to spend more time with them and help out whenever they need me. And it's not like I can keep doing this job forever, you know?"

John nodded. He knew all too well.

"Are you making pecan pie?" Shaw asked, watching him continue to break up the nuts. In a matter of moments she'd start drooling all over everything if he said he was.

"No, I'm making granola."

Shaw stared at him, as did Fusco. "What happened to the doughnuts every morning?" Shaw asked. 

"We're trying to be more healthy and homemade granola and yogurt has become Harold's favorite comfort food."

"I'm not sure we can be friends any more," she quipped. 

John snorted, and began mixing the bag of sliced almonds and four cups of rolled oats with the broken pecan pieces. 

"How's Serenity working out?" John asked. He and Harold had recommended she replace Harold as lead IT person just before they retired for good, but they hadn't seen her since her appointment to the position.

"She's great," Shaw said. "She's been working out really well. She knows what she's doing and Aurora seems to really like her as well as everyone else. Well, Leon seems to have a crush on her. I mean, I think everyone does to some degree. She's gorgeous, and she's good with computers. What's not to like? But Leon keeps trying to ask her out." She shook her head, then smiled. "Someday that's going to backfire on him, and I hope I'm there to see it."

"I am glad I don't have to put up with him any more, much as I do miss the job."

John moved to the stove, and the oven turned on to three hundred and fifty degrees before he put a stick and a half of butter to melt in the sauce pan he had ready on a burner. 

"Aurora seems to think if we can keep him busy doing good in the world, we can somehow keep him out of trouble. I keep trying to tell her that's not how Leon Tao works, but she won't listen to me."

Lionel was looking closely at John, scrutinizing his face with squinting eyes. "Are you sure there isn't anything we can do for you? You look utterly exhausted."

"I don't know what to ask for, honestly."

"What are you doing to keep yourself busy around here?" he asked.

"Chores, mostly. Laundry, dishes, grocery shopping. We watch television at night sometimes. Old movies. That sort of thing. Cooking also keeps me busy, keeps us fed, and we don't get bored eating the same frozen dinners every night. Aurora even bought me a crock pot."

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Someone save me from this suburban hell."

John whisked a generous helping of vanilla extract and three quarters of a cup of honey into the melted butter.

"Get the team together," Lionel nudged her in the shoulder. "Bring Harold. We'll go bowling as a group. It doesn't have to be bowling. But we should get you both out of the house for awhile. We're all friends. What do you say?"

Once the liquid mixture was ready, John poured it over the oats and nuts, mixed them together, and dumped everything into a nine by thirteen baking dish that went into the oven. John set the timer for thirty minutes.

"I told you I hate bowling."

"It doesn't have to be bowling. Remember that time we went on a picnic? We could do that again. The weather has been turning nice lately."

"You guys went on a picnic? When the hell did you do that?" Shaw asked, looking between the two of them. 

Lionel looked sheepish, all of a sudden. "I dunno... um, must have been a long time ago. Before you're time with the group."

"Yeah, right."

"John?" Aurora spoke into his earwig. "Harold's awake."

"Thank you, Aurora. Is he coming down?"

"Yes."

"I'm serious," Lionel said again. "We go out and do something fun and grab dinner afterwards. That's it. Nothing too difficult."

John had to admit that sounded like a lot of fun. He did need to get out of the house. They both did. "All right, whatever it is, we'll be there."

"John?" Harold's voice came down from the landing on the stairwell.

"Yes, Harold? I'm in the kitchen."

"Isn't Tosca broadcasting on PBS tonight?" 

John cringed inwardly at the mention of the opera and Shaw giggled at him. "Yes, I set the machine to record it just in case you fall asleep early again."

Harold came into the kitchen and stopped when he saw Shaw and Fusco sitting at the table with John. 

"Oh, Aurora did say you'd be here. Guess I forgot." He took a sniff of the air and turned to the oven and then to John. "It smells wonderful in here. Are you making more   
granola?"

John nodded and got to his feet, letting Harold have his seat. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Tea would be lovely, thank you, John."

John got Harold's mug down from the cabinet while the three of them started talking about the numbers Shaw and Fusco had been handling lately.

A moment later Fusco was standing beside John as the stove top came on to heat the water. "I just noticed you're not doing very much of this yourself," he said, indicating the   
stove as the timer began beeping.

"It takes some getting used to," John said. The timer shut off mid bleep as he pulled the granola out of the oven to stir it up a little. "But it's great for Harold if Aurora handles everything for him." He put the granola back into the oven for another 15 minutes and poured the boiling water over Harold's tea. 

"How's Jazmyn?" Harold asked.

"How do you know about her?" Shaw's eyes narrowed at him. 

John chuckled. "Sorry Shaw. Aurora's been updating Harold on some of your goings on. The story of your getaway driver girlfriend came up awhile back."

"She's not a getaway driver!"

"Reformed getaway driver, excuse me."

Fusco snorted. "I met her once. She's pretty hot."

Shaw smacked him in the shoulder. "You better not be hitting on my girlfriend. You hear me?"

"Did I say that? Would I ever dream of doing a thing like that? You'd slice my balls off before the thought even crossed my mind."

John found himself laughing again as he set Harold's tea in front of him.

Harold took a sip and visibly relaxed back into his seat. 

John let the three of them catch up while he brought the granola out of the oven for the last time, spread it out to cool on a nonstick cookie sheet, and began to sprinkle dried cranberries over the top, pulling them apart when they stuck together in large clumps. 

It was good that Shaw and Fusco had come to visit. Harold needed to talk to someone other than himself and Aurora. Already he was seeing Harold smile more and engage a little more with the world. 

They were definitely going to have to take Fusco up on the offer of a picnic or something. Just so long as bowling wasn't an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There is a homemade granola recipe hidden in this scene that's really good. Here is the actual recipe, if you're interested:  
> 1 ½ sticks of butter  
> 3/4 cup of honey  
> splash of vanilla  
> one bag of sliced almonds (7-12 oz)  
> one bag of walnuts or pecans (7-12 oz) - if you can't get these already broken up, break them into smaller pieces  
> 4 cups of oats  
> 6 oz dried cranberries 
> 
> Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Melt butter. Whisk honey and vanilla into the butter until the color changes all the way through. Pour this over the nut and oat mix and mix thoroughly. Put this into a 9X13in pan and put in the oven for 30 minutes. Take it out of the oven, give it a good stir so that the browned edges are mixed in. Put it back into the oven for 15 minutes. Put it on a nonstick baking sheet to cool, otherwise it may stick to the pan (if you didn't use a nonstick pan). Let it cool and put the cranberries on top. Put into a large container and give it a good shake to mix in the cranberries and further break up any clumps that formed when it cooled. This will feed one person for two weeks every day: ½ cup yogurt of your choice and three heaping serving spoons of granola make for a great breakfast!


	5. Chapter 5

Year: 2029

"John, what are you doing, sitting down to breakfast?!" Harold rushed into the kitchen early one morning, already dressed in his three piece brown suit with a matching purple tie and pocket square. "Judge Gates needs us!"

John looked quizzical at him. "What do you mean, Judge Gates needs us? We haven't talked to him or seen him in many years. Here, your tea is getting cold. As are your eggs."

Harold stared at him, his eyes wide behind the frames of his glasses. "How do you know that?" he asked.

"Know what?" 

"The Sencha green tea!"

"What about it?"

But Harold had gone silent on the matter as he stared at the mug of steaming liquid. 

"Are you going to sit down?" John asked. 

"You didn't poison it, did you?"

"If I had, would I tell you?"

"Good point."

"What's with all the questions about the tea? And who poisoned your tea? I'd like to go strangle them, if I may, for even attempting such a thing."

"Why?"

"Why what? Why would I strangle them?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because I love you, and anyone who tries to hurt you is no favorite person of mine. Why wouldn't I?"

Harold shrank back from John. "What did you just say? We haven't known each other that long, Mr. Reese. I think that's a bit forward, even for someone like you."

Harold hadn't called him Mr. Reese in so long, hearing his previous last name in such a formal fashion nearly gave John whiplash. 

"Harold... what year is it?" 

"Have you gone daft? It's 2011. What's wrong with you, Mr. Reese?"

John shuddered and got to his feet, pulling out the other kitchen chair. "Harold, would you please sit down." 

"Why?" Harold remained standing.

"Because I'd like to tell you something important and I really think it would be better if you were sitting down."

"You're leaving, aren't you? Well, at least you'll have the guts to tell me to my face, I hope, and not poison me first. You're not going to tell anyone about The Machine, are   
you?"

"Harold," John placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and pushed him down toward the seat. Harold sat. "Thank you." 

John then knelt in front of Harold and looked up at him, taking both of Harold's hands in his. His silver and gold striped wedding band shone in the overhead kitchen light.

"Why are you wearing a wedding ring, Mr. Reese?" Harold asked as if he'd just noticed it for the first time. "This case doesn't involve one, does it? I'm pretty sure I didn't tell you to go undercover as a married man for Judge Gates. What would that accomplish? Who are you pretending to be married to?"

John looked down at their hands, Harold's still inside his, then down at the floor, resting his forehead on Harold's knees. This was going to be harder than he'd thought. A lump had formed in his throat, and his eyes were stinging. He hadn't wanted Harold to see him falling apart, but his heart was cracking with the knowledge that his husband didn't remember their marriage, or half of their lives together.

When John looked up and opened his mouth to speak, Harold said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Reese. I guess I hadn't realized you'd married her before she died. In all my research, how could I not have realized such an important detail as that?"

"Please," John said, his voice little more than a whisper. "Please, Harold, stop talking."

"What?"

John paused for a moment to gather his strength. "The year is 2029. We got married in 2018 and we retired from the job in 2027."

"We got... married? You and I?"

"Yes, we did." John held one of Harold's hands up so he could see the matching silver and gold band on his left ring finger.

"Oh. Then what happened to Judge Gates?"

"Let me show you," Aurora spoke from the tablet on the wall. 

John picked up the extra one on the table and held it so he and Harold could both see the screen. Together they watched John argue with the kidnappers in the pouring rain and eventually kneecap them. They watched the judge and his son running through the wet weather toward a car to safety. 

Aurora then changed the video to that of their wedding. In the front row sat Judge Gates' son holding hands with a young woman wearing an engagement ring. Beside them, sat Zoe Morgan with a smirk on her lips. Across the isle sat some of the other numbers they'd rescued over the years: Fermin, the taxi driver turned personal trainer and his family; Madeline Enright and her wife, Amy; Megan Tillman; and Darren McGrady along with his boyfriend. John had had a sneaky suspicion Aurora had contacted them because he certainly wouldn't have known where to locate any of them after all those years. 

John's breath caught in his throat as the camera panned around to show John and Harold holding hands and staring into each other's eyes. Judge Gates stood with them, facing the audience. John let go of Harold's hands only long enough to take the ring offered by Sameen Shaw standing only a few feet away. As he slipped the ring onto Harold's left ring finger, he raised Harold's hand and placed a gentle kiss to it. 

"Thank you, Harold, for being my guiding light. I wouldn't still be here, if it weren't for you and I'm looking forward to many more years together, doing what we do best." 

Harold was blinking back tears as he reached for the matching wedding ring held by Lionel Fusco. "John, you taught me to love again, when I didn't think it was possible. I was afraid of the world when we met. I'm less so with you by my side and I wouldn't have my life any other way." He slipped the ring onto John's finger.

"You may kiss your partner," said Judge Gates.

John remembered leaning forward, letting go of Harold's hands in order to wrap his arms around him and draw him as close as possible. He remembered how Harold's sweet, soft lips touched his briefly before latching on, and nearly cementing the two of them together. John had poured all of his love into the fierceness of the kiss. He hadn't been sure some of the audience members truly understood his feelings. They would now.

"You are now husband and husband."

When he and Harold walked back down the isle, it was hard to miss the watery eyes of both men holding hands, walking shoulder to shoulder. 

John looked up from the screen to see Harold's expression had softened, and tears were quietly running down his face. 

"I'm so sorry, John. I didn't... I don't..."

John gathered him up in his arms and clung to him. "It's okay, Harold. It's okay."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of the story. I want to thank all of my readers for sticking with it, even though you know it's inevitably going to lead to heartbreak. That means a lot to me. The least I can do is leave this large box of Kleenex on the coffee table for you and I've also left a stack of blankets nearby should you feel the need to huddle together on the couch and cry for awhile. Oh, and a huge plate of chocolate chip cookies that might help you feel better? Again, thank you for reading, and for all of your comments. I hope this ending does Harold and John some justice. 
> 
> Also, please note that some of the warnings for this story do apply specifically to this chapter.

John was remembering the last time the team had gone for a picnic as he grabbed the next carrot and began slicing it for the crock pot stew. They'd been playing Monopoly on the grass. Shaw, Fusco, Jazmyn, Serenity, Leon, and Cecil, the newest member who seemed good at keeping Leon in line. Harold had been leaning back against John's chest, John's arms wrapped around him. Together they were the horse and rider, signifying their team of two.

It had been a good afternoon, full of laughter, and stories of past numbers, some of which John and Harold had participated in, others that had come up since their retirement. It felt good to know their work was being carried on, that other lives were being saved, and new team members were coming on board to help. 

Finished with the carrots, John chose a stalk of celery and began to quickly slice it. 

John liked Cecil, a young black man who seemed like a younger version of Harold in prim and proper suits and a formality about him that suggested he could walk into any board room and take control with ease. The team was inheriting Harold's vast fortunes, and Cecil would be the one to look after the money and ensure they never ran out. It only seemed fitting. 

The hardest part of that afternoon had been leaving everyone to come home again. 

"I want to go back," Harold had said as they headed toward their car parked on a side street. 

"Go back where?" John asked, keeping an arm looped through Harold's. 

"To the library, of course."

"Why?" John's happiness turned to nervousness. 

"I need to get back to work. There are numbers. You know the numbers never stop coming, John. And even with the new people, it's still not enough. They need our help."

At the memory, the knife slipped in John's hands. He let out an exclamation, the pain instant and sharp, as the blade sliced the skin on his index finger. He gritted his teeth and set the knife down. Turning toward the bathroom to get a band-aid, he was surprised to see Harold standing in the doorway. 

"Mr. Reese! What did Mr. Kohl do to you? Are you all right? Here, let me patch you up!"

John, feeling rather bewildered, glanced back at the food on the counter and the bloody knife beside the cutting board. "I'm okay," he tried to reassure Harold. "I'm okay."

"Oh, but he didn't use a knife, he used the needles on you..." Harold looked up at John, his eyes wide with a different kind of fright. "John? John, what's happening to me? I'm not remembering things correctly. Am I?"

John took a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm in the face of the truth. With a trickle of blood running down his finger, he gathered Harold into his arms and hugged him tight. "No. You're not." His voice quivered. "But it's okay. We've got this. I promise. It'll be okay."

* * *

It hadn't taken Harold much time to fall asleep for his early afternoon nap. It didn't these days. John lightly caressed his cheek as he sat up in bed beside him, all the emotions he'd been keeping locked down, bubbling up. 

"I'm losing him, Aurora."

"I know," came the soothing reply. 

"You know I..." John choked on his next words. "He saved me... so long ago-and-and I-without him-what am I? I'll have lost my purpose..." 

John felt his tears welling up and spilling over. Harold had always told him they would probably wind up dead from helping the numbers and John had believed him. He'd said goodbye to Harold on that rooftop, not even thinking Aurora could save him in the last second after he'd uploaded her to the satellite. He never thought he and Harold could be reunited to grow old together. He wasn't supposed to die an old man, comfortable in his bed. But once Harold was gone...

"Don't worry, John. I'll take care of it. I promise."

* * *

It was the next day when a delivery man with a Thornhill baseball cap delivered a small box. Inside, John found a typed note that read, "For when the time is right. I love you both. - Aurora"

Beneath the note was a canister small enough to slip into a pocket. There was a single white capsule inside. A lump caught in his throat and he nodded his thanks, knowing she was watching from somewhere.

"John," Harold called his name from their bedroom, his voice amplified by the tablet's intercom system

"I'm coming," John said softly. 

He slipped the pill back into the cannister, slipped the cannister into his pocket, and got up to go to Harold. Unprepared, his knees buckled out from under him and he sat back down. Hard. His spine jarred from top to bottom. Fat tears were rolling down his cheeks and he was sobbing.

"John will be up in a few minutes," he heard Aurora telling Harold.

"I'm... coming," he choked out, hiding his face in his hands, not even wanting Aurora to see this.

* * *

The hospice nurse had just left as John slipped back into their bedroom. Harold held his hand out and John took it as soon as he'd gotten close, giving it a squeeze. 

"Father," Aurora's voice came through the wall mounted tablet, and for a machine, her voice seemed very unsteady to John. 

She asked him to get the extra tablet for Harold. He helped Harold to sit up, his frail body almost as light as a feather, so he could easily see the screen. Intending to give them some privacy, John stepped away, but Harold wasn't letting go of his hand. 

There were tears in Harold's eyes, and his voice was choked as he said, "Please... stay."

"Okay," and John's own voice came out a little shaky.

In his pocket, the tiny canister Aurora had delivered pressed into his thigh and weighed heavily on his mind as he made his way to the other side of the bed.

"My family," Harold said once John was sitting beside him. 

"Are you ready?" Aurora asked.

"Yes... I... I think so."

On the tablet screen, John saw a much younger Harold, looking more like a computer programmer in round wire-rimmed glasses and a white short sleeve button down shirt with no jacket or tie, sitting down after reaching forward to adjust something. 

"There we go," Past Harold said. 

He turned to the man standing behind him, and John was startled to see Nathan Ingram there, leaning over his shoulder asking, "Is it on?"

"Yes, I think so," Past Harold replied. 

This must have been the birth of The Machine. John glanced at Harold sitting beside him. 

"The beginning..." Harold said, surprise etched into his face.

John leaned over, wrapped an arm around Harold's shoulders, and placed a gentle kiss to his temple. It seemed silly, but even after 17 years together, John was determined to protect Harold's privacy. He let Aurora show Harold his life, so far as she knew it, and held Harold close. 

In his own mind, he replayed some of the images he remembered from when he was a small child, getting his first bicycle for Christmas from his parents, losing first his mom, then his father. He remembered his first night in foster care and the bully who'd tried to hurt him only to end up with a broken nose for his troubles. He'd gone into the Army as early as possible, seeming like the only option open to him, and from there, the CIA, because, what other choices did he have? Jessica came and went, but while he regretted a lot of things he could have done better with her, he also recognized that he had needed to let her go, in order for Harold to find him. 

"You can call me Mr. Finch," Harold's voice said from the tablet.

As John looked up, he saw himself, wearing too many dirty layers and a year-old growth of beard, eyes narrowed and unsure of the man sitting before him. And there, on the lone park bench, sat Harold, as perfectly poised and dapper as always. 

He thought he saw an image of Darren all grown up, publishing his comic about a street vigilante through Thornhill Press. And was that Leila going off to prom?

All too soon, however, their story had ended and the screen had gone black. 

Aurora spoke up, her voice quiet in the stillness of the house, "I said this once before, father, but thank you for creating me. John, thank you for everything you've done. You will never be forgotten."

John's smile of acknowledgment was faint as Harold reached out to gently touch the screen of the tablet, as if it were the face of his child.

John closed his eyes, trying to rid them of a certain sting, and buried his nose into Harold's silver hair.

"I love you," his voice came out a scratchy whisper into Harold's ear. 

Harold held onto his arm, leaning into him, refusing to let go. "I love you too," he choked out. "Both of you."

John wasn't sure how long they clung to each other before he realized Harold had stopped breathing. 


End file.
